


A Celebration

by felandaris



Series: Another Place And Time [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Consensual Sex, Cullenlingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 12:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6116953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Jadzia have a private party. A birthday gift for a lovely friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Celebration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JadziaLavellan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadziaLavellan/gifts).



> **[I'm now on Patreon!](https://www.patreon.com/cullenstairshenanigans) **  
>  Patrons get to read my fics a week early and can prompt me. Check it out if you like! ^__^ (/shameless plug)

_Smell._

A distant waft of manure. Not-so distant alcoholic foulness lingering on her own breath. Sweat, salty and potent, mingling with the hay’s spicy aroma.

_Sound._

Faint bawdy words to some out-of-key song from well-oiled throats. Hooves scratching nearby, the occasional neigh; a thousand straws rustling to their own rhythm. And then there’s _his_ noises, slick and sinful.

_Sensation._

Liquor’s sting between her temples, already twisting in her stomach. Damp, clammy and hot. The stab of blunt nails on her hips, stubble grazing her thighs and, _Creators_ , that tongue.

And Jadzia’s caught in this haze of impressions, surreal and titillating all at once. Her mind is spinning, her body writhing, thrusting, desperate for more. But Cullen maintains control, holding her still. It’s him who dictates the pace here- enough to keep her on the edge but too leisurely to grant release.

Her eyes want to roll shut and surrender, but she forces herself to look. Cullen is absorbed in her as ever, that skilful tongue unaffected by his own intoxication. The sight of his brow pinched in pleasure, of his mouth opening wide to take more of her in, leaves her weak, powerless. He catches her staring, and in the dark of his eyes flashes a devious pride.

Never breaking eye contact, his tongue flicks out for torturously slow lap up her seam. Jadzia sighs, pants, groans _please_. All it gets her is one of those smirks- and an outstretched finger. It slides in with the same infuriating patience, and she can _hear_ it sink into her, feel herself stretch around every thick knuckle. When, _at last_ , it grazes the spot that makes her keen, his patience finds its end. He ravishes her then, her cheeks weightless in his huge palms as he pulls her _right into his face_ , her legs trembling on his shoulders. He descends on her, devours her as if she were the meal he skipped. Sucking in her swollen lips, he worries his teeth across their length ever so lightly.

Pressure builds, rises through her hot and urgent. Abdominals tighten, thighs tremble and her pearl pulses, plump and stiff.

He reads her, of course, sensing her approaching climax. A growl leaves his lips as they fasten around her bundle and he sucks, _hard_.

Jadzia wails, gripping straws, shoulders, anything. She’s throbbing under his mouth, seconds away from tumbling. Before her mind flashes the sequence of events that brought them up here. Her party returning victoriously, bearing Vinsomer’s tooth. The bustling tavern, round after round of - _whatever_ was _that stuff?-_ Cullen and his men, in straight from their exercise, sweaty and spirited.

And somehow, by some drunken twist of circumstances, they’ve ended up at the stables’ loft, where she’s about to-

“Come for me, love. I need to taste you.” The lower end of his baritone, hoarse with greed, does it.

The Herald arches, Cullen’s tousled curls tickling her thighs as they clamp around his head. White-hot pleasure rushes through her, pouring from her in a thin cry and a rush of heat. And he sips from her, slurp after quick little slurp.

Orgasm’s abandon fades into lazy bliss, leaving her a boneless heap of flushed skin and drowsy sighs.

When her grip on him relaxes Cullen sets her down, not without inhaling her once more. The absentminded _ah_ accompanying his eyes’ path up her body is equal parts admiration and predatory lust.

Cullen’s body follows his gaze as he crawls on top of her, his motions smooth and deliberate as the animal she brings out in him. She’s sluggish, beat, but the rise of his heat over her, his shirt caressing yet-sensitive nipples, tease timid arousal back into her senses.

Heavy lids cloud her vision as he approaches. The stray curl falling across his forehead and the glint in his gaze give him a dangerous, irresistible allure. Jadzia barely registers his smirk before he pins her arms above her head, his hips bearing down the same instant. Rough fabric coaxes a throb from her damp centre and a reluctant groan from her throat. _Too much, too soon._ But there’s no respite, for he does it again, this time swallowing her weak moan with a searing kiss.

Bitter rotgut and feminine cream make for a surprising treat. She licks herself off him, sucking on his tongue as fresh desire rises inside her.

Just as she wants to wrap her thighs around his waist Cullen lets go, standing above her. His armour and boots are scattered somewhere along the stairs, and the smirk returns when he starts opening his shirt. Fine tufts of hair appear as the buttons come undone, scars snaking thin and white across sallow skin. He watches her watching him, cocking a brow before the shirt drops to the ground. That smug grin widens at her sharp inhale when he unbuckles his belt. He savours her excitement- the bounce of her irises following his movements and the way she bites her lip in anticipation. Slowly the trousers roll down those powerful thighs, revealing his appetisingly tented smalls. Jadzia hisses from the strain of anticipation, any fatigue forgotten. Thumbs hook under the waistband, and both groan as his prick springs free.

Tossing the discarded layers aside, he takes himself in hand. The thick length fills his palm, the tempting head sliding up and down between his fingers as he strokes himself, merciless as he is. Each flick of the wrist, every rub of his thumb stokes her rekindled need, has her body singing for him.

A few more tugs and Cullen holds out a hand, _still smirking_. Jadzia’s head spins as she rises to her knees. But he’s got her, holding her steady in front of him. Immediately his smell beckons her- raw masculinity, an intoxication all of its own.

She closes in, her eyes drawn to the mighty shaft, or more precisely to the single clear bead pearling from its crown.

The balance in power shifts, delightfully, as her tongue pokes at the slit with just enough pressure to make him _whimper_. Gaze locked with his, Jadzia smiles as she swallows him. Lips span around girth, tears shoot into her eyes, and her throat burns with abrupt fullness. _But she’ll manage_ , she thinks as her nose dives into musky ashen blonde frizz. Many practice sessions have left her rather adept at pleasing her Commander. Though these tend to place in the privacy of their chambers, not on a pile of hay. In broad daylight. With half the Inquisition around the corner.

Jadzia huffs at the absurdity of their predicament, only made funnier by the drink. As she bobs up and down his length, relishing his whispers, she muses how much she’s surprising herself here. This is completely, peculiarly unlike her- unlike both of them. Daytime drinking, on an empty stomach nonetheless, followed by this very public debauchery.

When Cullen withdraws, pulling her off him, she sees it in his eyes. Only with him, and he with none but her, can they lose all manners, all decorum; simply leave everything behind, come up here and _fuck_.

And fuck they do, Cullen back in control as she turns onto all fours. She yelps when he smacks her bare arse, leans into the sweet sting when he does it again. Then his hard torso presses against her, coarse hairs tickling her spine.

He enters her with slippery, delicious ease. They moan in harmony as she absorbs him, hot and rigid and filling. When his sac bobs against her sex both grant themselves a shuddering breath. A fleeting brush of his lips along her neck and he withdraws, leaving her frustratingly empty for a blighted instant.

On most days Cullen likes to build a gradual pace, savouring each push, every roll of the hips. Only today isn’t most days. His palm finds her waist, and he s _lams_ back in, the slap of skin sharp and obscene as she howls with brazen lust.

They fall into what’s barely a rhythm but a sequence of sharp, urgent motions. In her cries, in his grunts rings lust, carnal need and _they_ \- a proud affirmation of what they share, just Cullen and Jadzia.

Possibly too loud an affirmation, for the sudden approach of booted footsteps has them freezing on the spot. Jadzia’s eyes widen in panic. _Is the Warden about to find them copulating in his hay stack bed…?_

Fright becomes embarrassment rather than relief upon hearing the tentative “Hello?” from what must be that recruit with the impossible timing- _Jim?_

Though she can’t see him, Jadzia senses Cullen processing the same thoughts. Her own voice breaks the clueless silence, a gleeful _Oh_ as he thrusts back inside her, angled just right.

Quick footfalls retreat the other way, and in the hoarse laugh they share again their closeness, their unique bond, echoes off the walls.

Cullen’s breath comes quicker, and his hips are beginning to stutter. She knows his next move. A hot, ragged exhale precedes the lick up her sensitive ear shell. Jadzia moans- his name, Elven curses, her utter pleasure.

Once more her world fades into a blur of sensation. Warmth building, spiralling from where he’s driving into her; wet slaps, creaking wood and breathless voices; musk and intimacy, inside and around her.

When she finds her senses she’s on her back, hay prickling against flushed skin. Beside her Cullen’s chest is rising a little slower with every inhale, and he rubs his face as he turns towards her.

For a dreamy moment they simply lie looking at each other. A yawn lingers at the edge of Cullen’s voice when he speaks.

“Congratulations on slaying the dragon, Inquisitor.”

Jadzia chuckles, her index finger tracing an invisible line down his forehead, then the curve of his nose to rest on his lips. She motions at her Commander’s tired form.

“It would seem I’ve tamed the lion, too.”

Cullen’s smile shines bright as the late afternoon sun playing in his curls.

“Indeed you have.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> [Find me (and the boys) on Tumblr!](https://http://cullenstairshenanigans.t%20Tumblr.com) ʘ‿ʘ


End file.
